No, thanks. I'd rather walk.

I imagine the Gates of Heaven to be God and his clipboard. I imagine this clipboard to have a special sheet at the back titled 'Don't Bother. Just Send Straight to Hell'. It's a short list. After all, everyone deserves the opportunity to plead their case. There are some groups, however, that won't be listened to. Wedged in between paedophiles and reality TV stars are Santiago taxi drivers.

Never use a taxi if it can be avoided. Taxis are cheap and plentiful here but the drivers are basically unscrupulous con men.....especially the older grandpa types. The transport system is quite extensive here and the metro is quick and cheap. If you live here, you should be using public transport the vast majority of the time anyway. Taxi drivers here eyeball Gringos the same way a cheetah does a gazelle.

If you must use a taxi, then follow my Rules of Engagement:

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble.......

Today is one of the saddest days in Chile's history. I say one of because the worst is yet to come. Today we begin our farewell to one of the greatest players in Chilean history since Bernardo O'Higgins, the Irishman who liberated Chile from the Spanish.

Depending on which one you read, polls put Michelle Bachelet's popularity rating as high as 80%. Amazing when you think that she's been in power for four years and she's a woman. Unfortunately, due to Chile's ridiculous law that she can't run for a consecutive term, she will not be president for the next four years at least. I won't purport to know the intricacies of the policies she introduced or the effect of them. One thing I can say is that she has highlighted the inequalities between the sexes and worked tirelessly to rectify that imbalance in machista Chile. She has played her part by building and trying to maintain a cabinet of 50% women.

Obviously her work is nowhere near complete. And while her labours may not have yet borne fruit, the green shoots of change are evident. Four years is a short time to change a mentality that is so ingrained in a culture. Besides she has had other side projects to work on such as forging trade relations with China, trying to get Chile into the OECD and getting the country through a global recession.

Ms. Bachelet is exactly the type of person you would want to run your country. Being a woman, she doesn't suffer from that macho bullshit you get from male politicians but she's not nearly as hysterical as a Hiliary Clinton say. She's separated - no happy families bullshit for cameras, only honesty. She doesn't do religion, only she makes the decisions - Hallelujah. She has been a working parent all her life and she's a pediatrician. She speaks at least five languages. When she speaks, you listen. She doesn't use maxims or sound bites. She doesn't care if you like her or not. She's intelligent, compassionate and fair.

So, what are the world saying about current events in Chile?

Underachievers Apply Within.

As I write this Colo Colo fans are making their way to Plaza Italia to celebrate being the Primera División Clasura Champions 2009. Buses are full to bursting point. Arms, legs and flags are vying for space to hang out the windows. The stores on my street have closed early and a helicopter is flying back and forth keeping an eye on proceedings. The obligatory car horns are being played with finesse and the beer bellied, tattooed hinchas are in full voice.

Fans of Los Albos are quite accustomed to such victory celebrations. In this decade alone, they have been champions seven times. It should be noted that the Chilean league has two seasons per year called the Apertura (Opening) and Clausura (Closing). It should also be noted that this is how it's done in most of Latin America. Therefore some countries have two champions per year. Some countries have a play-off between Apertura and Clausura winners to have an ultimate champion. Colo Colo have just won the Clausura. Confused? Well, wait! I haven't got to the ridiculous part yet.

Dogs and Camels

Sunglasses are essential during sunny weather. In Santiago, you need them pretty much all year round. While officially not summer here yet, the fact that there are more sunny days above 25°C than not, makes it summer in my book.

The hotter weather has a noticeable effect on the many aspects of Santiago life. Dogs are less mobile. Their scavenging activities are punctuated by lots of siestas, usually at the top of metro steps, the pavement or pretty much anywhere they damn well please. This makes them more nocturnal and bouts of barking at night more frequent.

Hot weather also means ice cream. Ice cream is another source of the junk food that Chileans gorge themselves on but more so in the summer. Buses and streets are abundant with leather-skinned flaites who take a break from drug dealing to scream heladoheladohelado followed by chirimoyafrutillamorapiña.

The third most notable effect is the increase in the amount of female flesh on display.

La Mala Education

Education is very much on the agenda at the moment. Teachers have been on strike and there is an election next month. As I understand it, the teachers are angry because of a reneged agreement for pay increases dating back more than a decade. To be fair, education is pretty much on the agenda all year round. If the teachers aren't on strike, the students are. That's right, the students!! Striking is popular here. It generally consists of making a whole load of noise and breaking stuff.


If you work for a language school here in Santiago, quite often the students are there at their employers' behest. That's right, their bosses pay for them to be taught English. Sweet. You would think!

The Hand of Frog

June 1986, Mexico City. It's quarter finals time in the greatest competition in the world......The World Cup. Two teams meet in the blistering heat to challenge for a coveted semi-final place. Four years earlier the countries were at war. It was Argentina v England. The eyes of the world were on them and the fans.

In 1979 Argentina were seriously considering invading Chile. For some reason they decided to change their plans and try to invade a little group of islands off the Argentinian coast called The Falklands (Las Malvinas). The Chileans breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately for the Argentinians, these sheep populated islands were (and still are) British territory. Long story short: after a little more than two months the Argies had their arses severely spanked and went home with their tails between their legs. Chile played it's part by providing intelligence to the British and offering support if things got out of hand. A beautiful friendship bloomed between Pinochet and Thatcher.

Back to Mexico. Recent events hyped up this game to epic proportions. Tabloid newspapers in both countries naturally equated the game to the war. In 1982 the British had the biggest and best trained military force in the world. In 1986 the Argentinians had Maradona.

...I've got another puzzle for you.

Today, I think I've probably seen the single most stoopidest thing in my life. Naturally a Chilean was involved. Well, the odds are against them. I like how New Yorkers pronounce 'stupid'. It gives it an extra resonance.

If you've lived in this city for any length of time, you can't help but notice how much cleaning goes on by the local authorities. They are pissing against the wind here as Chileans are litter bugs and they wouldn't think twice about tossing a wrapper on the ground regardless of who's watching. In and around the city centre and eastern suburbs their are armies of jump-suited pensioners with pans and brushes. When they aren't sweeping up they are watering concrete (that's a whole other rant).

It's only a game.

Events over the coming week or so will decide the last of the teams going to the World Cup. Some fans have nothing to worry about as their nations already know their fate. Teams already there include: Australia, Korea (North & South), England, Spain, the USA, Mexico, Brazil, Ghana and of course, Chile. In total, 32 nations will compete during the month of June next year in South Africa.

My tip is current European Champions, Spain. They are constantly feted as the best team never to have won the tournament. They have two of the best young players in the world, Fabregas and Torres. Both play in the English Premier League for Arsenal and Liverpool respectively.

My team has yet to qualify. They have a chance but I won't tempt fate by making a prediction just yet.

Football is, without doubt, the greatest game in the world. There are other ball sports that hijack the name but there is only one. In the US, the word describes a sport played by steroid-pumped homosexuals in motorcycle helmets wearing mascara. (Is all that ass touching really necessary?). The Australian version is the antithesis of its American cousin. It is a sport played by raving lunatics. The origins of which are steeped in Australia's penal colony history. It is the bastard child of rugby and football. In both instances, neither sport is played at a professional level outside it their respective countries.

Hammer Time

If you were me you would've done the same. Wouldn't you?

I love Fridays. I have only one class to teach in the middle of the afternoon and that student comes to me. Friday is also feria day. Right now the prices are great. A kilo of fresh, ripe strawberries are only $500. Avocados and tomatoes are also dirt cheap. The feria is one of the highlights of my week. It stretches along three blocks and the atmosphere is great. Everyone calls you buddy, love and sir. Aside from my classroom, it's one of the few places in the whole of Santiago where I don't want to pound the bejaysus out of a native. And I love food.

Red October

I was so close. The line was in sight and I dropped the baton. Although, I am disappointed, I'm consoled by the fact that my actions may have inspired others to do the same, but I doubt it.

I had almost cleared a whole calendar month without bawling at an idiotic Chilean. Not only did I fall off the wagon, I fell off and took out four of them in one fell swoop.

The main idea behind my blog is to vent my frustrations at what has to be the most idiotic, illogical, ignorant, indolent, inconsiderate race of people on the planet......Santiaguinos. I feel that if I can vent my ire on a keyboard rather than in the face of a native, then I'm less likely to go too far and actually inflict physical damage on the cretin. Let me tell you, it's not easy.

I love the metro. It's clean, efficient and value for money. It gets me from A to B in good time. It's not perfect, but by Santiago standards it's a Nobel Prize winner. Well, they are just giving them out to anybody these days. Most times it's fuller than a spinster's plate at a wedding but the metro company are always trying new initiatives to deal with this issue of overcrowding on the platforms and in and around the station.

Nice body, shame about the face.

The most common question I get asked by my students (after we've covered the obligatory 'How much years have you?' and 'How long time you are in Chile?') is 'Do you like Chile?' During my first semester, my answers consisted of 'So far, yes, I like it'......cue five minute explanation of so far.

By the time the second semester had started and new classes had been added to my schedule, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I knew, that on meeting my new students, I would be asked that question again. This posed a problem. I had been living here for four to five months and already hated Santiago and the vast majority of its moronic inhabitants I had encountered on a day to day basis. What was I to do? I don't like lying when it means denying an opinion, nor did I want to offend my students. Then, in an inspired moment, I realised that they were asking about Chile. No problem, then. I'd been outside of Santiago. I'd visited Viña, Valparaiso, La Serena, Elqui Valley. I had an out. 'Chile? Oh yeah, it's a beautiful country. You guys are so lucky'.......cue five minute explanation that guy does not mean homosexual.

My favourite bar none.

For some people, just having cold beer available and some decent company is enough to give a bar their seal of approval. The former being in the control of the bar owners and the latter being the responsibility of the approver. For me, what is paramount to a customer's comfort is the quality of the staff. They need to be friendly, attentive and efficient. I don't think it's too much to ask for.

Yes, I know I'm in Santiago and finding a native possessing any one of those qualities in the hospitality industry is like trying to find a ham sandwich at a bar-mitzvah.

Come on feel the noise.

When you're living in a metropolitan area, noise is inevitable. There are all sorts of violations on your auditory system here in Santiago; Traffic, construction work, Super-Ocho sellers and New Yorkers to name but a few.
However, these are constants. You soon tune them out and carry on with your afternoon nap. It's the amount of superfluous noise I'm talking about. And Chileans love to make an unnecessary racket.

I'm also not talking about the one-beer-queers that burst into Feliz Cumpleaños every 10 minutes while your trying to watch a game in what is a designated Gringo bar anyway. That's quite annoying , especially when I throw them one of my well rehearsed dirty looks which doesn't pay off. Hey, they're in a bar having a drink. Who am I to wreck the buena onda?

No. I'm talking about the noise pollution in this city that the Chileans use as 'look at us, we're making some noise'.

Take the kids for example. If they aren't dry humping one another on park benches or metro platforms, they're playing music through their phones. Some of the more worldly-wise flick through the reggaeton classics with such abandon that no sooner are you ready for the second chorus, having mastered it first time round, then the next masterpiece is thrust upon us.
I can't blame the kids really, but a responsible adult should take hold of the situation and put a halt to this anti-social behaviour (as well as the dry humping).

Walking by a butcher's yesterday at a little after 9.00am (yes, I thought it a little strange for a Chilean enterprise to be open at such a convenient hour), I was subjected to a 4 foot high speaker in their doorway blaring out some sort of heartfelt ballad with the volume turned up to 11. To be fair, the volume was probably warranted. The song was at that crescendo part where you imagine the balladeer (or group of) grabbing an imaginary object with his outstretched hand, stabbing himself in the bosom and closing his eyes so tight that his cheeks meet his forehead. Think Backstreet Boys.
Well one thing's for sure. It certainly didn't make me want to go in there and ask for a kilo of chicken feet.

Then there's Dr. Simi (slogan: the same only cheaper). These guys sell generic versions of the more expensive, patented brands of drugs and medicines. There's a branch of theirs on Vicuña Mackenna near Baquedano which employs a similar marketing technique of the aforementioned butcher's, only this music tends to be a little funkier, but not necessarily better.

So, you've been working all day in your uncle's meat shop. You've gutted more than your fair share of poultry. The stench of rotting entrails and constant wailing of some lovelorn troubadour has taken it's toll and if Marco Antonio Solis has another verse left in him that vein in your temple is going to explode and make this place look like....ehm, a butcher's! So, you take a break to pop across to good ol' Dr Simi for a gross of Tapsin (or the same, only cheaper). Well, it's a frying pan into fire scenario, isn't it? Pop! Splat! Scream!

Going on strike here is no tip-toe through the tulips either. There are drums, whistles, kazoos, military style marching songs and loudspeakers. Those dour looking bank clerks you've had the misfortune to encounter while cashing your pay cheque are suddenly full of la joie de vivre and smiling, singing, shouting. Had they put as much effort into their customer relations (how hard is it to give a Buen Día a Cómo está? a Que tenga buen día ?) as they do to their banners, perhaps the bank wouldn't be making any redundancies.

The biggest violation of my right to a peaceful environment are the Transantiago buskers. Buses here get quite full but these guys manage to find enough elbow room to rape your ears with a couple of Andean tunes banged out on a guitar held together by scotch tape. Then they ask for money. Supposedly a bribe not to play an encore. I'm all for street performers but that's where they should stay, on the street. That way, I have the choice whether I want to listen or not. The bus company did try to ban these guys a few years back but they went on strike!!! The buskers that is! Their version of striking is a quite different from the common or garden variety I mentioned previously. Apparently they started attacking buses and drivers until eventually, as is the Chilean way, they gave in.

Fire engines and ambulances whizz along empty roads with their sirens blaring, football fans celebrate victories with car horns through the night, religious nuts carry paper mache Virgin Marys shoulder high accompanied by a brass and rhythm section who sound like they've exchanged instruments for the day.

Unnecessary, I say. Let's have some piece and quiet, I say. Easier said than done, I suppose.

Even as I write this, there are three Chileans having a 'conversation'. A conversation in this country is all parties talking at once while the competition to be heard slowly encourages the volume to increase. I can't complain, though. It is drowning out that god-awful Starbucks music.

Here's to the first of many.

I've toyed with the idea over and over again about having a blog. For an opinionated individual, such as myself, it always seemed to be the natural progression. I've never been shy about putting forward an opinion and screaming that the Emperor is stark-bollock naked. An admirable trait I've always thought. After all, there is no worse scourge in our society than hypocrisy. Is there?
However, I have learnt along the way that there's a time and a place for such correct opinions.

One such opinion is that blogs are maintained by attention-seeking, egotistical individuals. So before I took my first steps into the blogosphere I had to make sure that I fitted into that category. Not fitting into that category would have inhibited this gift I am bestowing on the world simply because to join this club without the requisite traits would've rendered my original opinion wrong. And that would upset the natural order.

I imagine a large portion of my postings (read: rants) will be of my time here in Santiago and my encounters with the natives and their 'different' ways.
I arrived in Santiago about 18 months ago. The first thing you see when you exit the airport, after you navigate your way through the salivating taxi drivers is the breathtaking view of the Andes. It's then you know you've made the right decision to travel to the other side of the world on a one-way ticket to a country where you have only a rudimentary knowledge of the language.

I also think there'll be a mention or two of football (it's never called 'soccer') with a good measure of my pet hates. Do I care if people read my blog? Well, of course I do! After all, I'm an attention-seeking, egotistical individual.

Here's to a long and prosperous future of spleen venting.

Cheers.